The Quell
by David Barger
Summary: This is the story of Aridan Wolff, who is chosen to represent District two in the first of the Quarter quells of The Hunger Games. I hope you enjoy following his journey to keep himself alive against all odds.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One: Career**

**Chapter One**

The stillness of a sleeping house is unnerving. That's what I think when I open my eyes on the day of the reaping. Today is the day when the elected boys and girls from all of the twelve districts will be sent to the Capital to prepare for the twenty fifth Hunger Games; the first of the Quarter Quells.

I sit up and look around my room, thinking that this could be the last time I see it. This could be the last time I sit in my bed, greeting the day. For the last few years, this thought shook me with fear. This year, it wasn't fear that shook me; it was excitement.

Later this morning, our escort, Andie Meyers, will be here, wishing the entire population of District two a "Very happy Hunger Games," as always. Then a boy and a girl will be chosen to represent our district from thousands of names in two gigantic glass orbs. But there is a catch, this year. Since this is the year of the first "Quarter quell," a celebration of twenty five years of gruesome, televised death, an odd twist has been put on the Games, just to shake things up a little. This year, the citizens of each district has to vote on which two kids would be sent to their deaths in what the Capital calls the arena. But in Districts one, two and four, it is an honor to be chosen to participate. So since the Quell was announced, many of the children of these districts have been out campaigning for the votes of our citizens, including myself. We are unlike any of the lower Districts in Panem in this way. We are the only kids who train beforehand to be tributes. That's why our tributes are always called the careers.

I stand up, shaking out my limbs to get the blood flowing to them. Immediately, I go to the bathroom and turn on the hot water in the tub.

I need to look nice if I'm going to the Capital.

The water burns as I lower myself into the tub. But slowly, my skin accepts the sensation. I scrub the thin layer of sweat and dust away that had collected on me the day before.

I'm about to move onto my hair when there is a knock on the bathroom door. It could only be my mother. After stepping out of the water and wrapping up in a towel, I open the door and let her in. The first thing I notice is the despair in her eyes, something I've ever seen only once before: when my older brother, Anderson, was killed in the Games five years ago.

"What is it, mom?" I try to be gentle; I know she's hiding her tears.

"Breakfast is on the table, Aridan," she murmurs. She is so quiet that I hardly even hear her.

I nod, swallowing the words that neither of us wants, or needs, to hear. I tell her to let me wash my hair, and I'll be downstairs after that. Then I give her a soft, warm hug. For the first time, I realize that I've grown to be at least a full head taller than her. It's amazing what reaping day reveals to us.

This was all too much for my poor mother. I feel her wipe at a tear and she then pulls away. She turns quickly and leaves through the door, not able to look at me.

Once she is gone, I quickly rinse out my hair and dry off, pulling on a robe for breakfast. Downstairs, I see that my mother has gone all out trying to make an extravagant breakfast for me and my father. She has piled pancakes, eggs, and various meats on our plates.

She must have saved up for a month to make this extraordinary meal for us. The pancakes and eggs weren't all that expensive, but the syrup and all of that meat…

The price alone makes me nauseous. But I sit down anyways after giving my mom a kiss on the cheek and dig in. For the past three years, since I was twelve in my first reaping, she would make these fantastic meals, to make the day special. We had them back when my brother was alive, too, but I was so young back then that nowadays, I hardly remember them.

After about five minutes of watching me eat, my father chooses to speak up.

"Ari," he says, "What will you do if you are chosen?" He is the only person I've ever allowed to call me that name.

I can't meet his cool gaze, but I know I must be honest with him.

"I'll most likely just join the pack, I suppose." Even when the Games were new, the strongest of the tributes, normally the Careers, would band together, forming a lethal "pack". For most of the Games, they would just run around together, picking off the weak. But sooner or later, they would all turn on each other.

The winner almost always turned out to be one of them.

I finally manage to meet my father's gaze, and I'm surprised to see him nodding his head.

"That would be the best choice, son," he says. Then he smiles. "I think you could easily win these Games, even if you are just barely sixteen. You're strong. Smart. Fast."

"And don't forget all this God forsaken training you've put me through for the past five years of my life," I mutter. But I can't help smirking. I find it hilarious that my father and I can discuss this sort of idea with such ease. He chuckles and goes back to reading his paper.

My mother, on the other hand, is a wreck. I can tell that she would be the happiest woman in Panem if I wasn't chosen today. For a while, I just sit in my chair, watching her move silently around our kitchen. She still won't look at me, even when I take her my empty plate.

"Go get yourself dressed," is all she says to me. I nod and go back upstairs, feeling hurt. It will be a very long morning at the rate it has started out.

I try my best to keep a level head as I choose my clothing. On the past reaping days, I have seen the outfits of the sons and daughters of all the mayors of the different Districts; they always look nice without fail. I feel that I should at least attempt to look just as nice as them. At least try.

I nice shirt, at least, is in order. I pick through my closet until I find a fitted black sweater and my black dress pants. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I discover one of my great grandfathers' gold wristbands sitting on my night stand. With a jolt of painful gratitude, I realize this is from my mother. She intends for me to wear it into the arena if I'm chosen.

I slide it over my hand, admiring how it still shines in the light, even after all of these years. I slip on my best leather boots and head downstairs once again.

My parents have gotten dressed as well. They are both standing by the front door, ready to leave. My mother is still taking her vow of silence.

We take the long walk to the square without speaking more than a few words about how nice the weather is. I'm grateful for this; it gives me time to think. Could it really have just been five years ago that my brother was in the arena? It seems as if it was so much longer ago than that. I grimace as I remember the distance my mother put between herself and the rest of my family; I remember the final blow that I watched my brother take in the finale. For weeks, my father and I had to cook, do the laundry, all while my mother sat frozen in her chair with grief.

I know that I will break her heart again if I go into the arena. But if I'm chosen, I will have no choice. No volunteers will be taken this year.

Either way, it put that extra twist into the Games.

About ten minutes after leaving our house we arrive at the square. Already, much of District two is here. In the center of the wide, open space is the roped off area in which all of us kids await the reaping. The only sounds here are the winds and the gentle murmurings among one another. But once we are on live television, I'm sure that will all change. It always does.

After giving my mother a kiss and my father a hug, I slowly walk into the area for sixteen year old boys. Many turn their heads to look at me. On some faces, there are smiles, looks of hopeful congratulations. But everywhere else I look is sorrow and despair. These are the people who would never volunteer, the ones who fear the Games and the Capital.

I nod to each pair of eyes I meet, whispering "good luck" to many of the younger kids at the back. This is first time that the odds are against everybody. But District two has never sent a tribute under the age of fifteen to the Games. I wouldn't be worried if I were in any of those kids' shoes.

Ten or so minutes have passed by the time our mayor, escort and past tributes make their ways to the stage in front of the city hall. Andie Meyers, a bouncy woman with long hair and that odd Capital accent, sits down immediately and crosses her legs and arms.

Out of the twenty four years of the games, our District can claim five Victors. They are all smiles today, waving to the crowd, with who they are popular, and talking amongst themselves. One of them has apparently done something to upset Andie, and now they are laughing over it as they discuss who will mentor this year's tributes.

That's what I decide to pay attention to as we go live and our mayor takes his place at the podium and began reading the long, drawn out history of our country, Panem, that nobody ever wanted to listen to. He tells us of the rebellion and how the rebels were defeated by the oh so glorious Capital. The he recites the Peace treaty, and the anthem booms through the square. As Andie Meyers makes her way to the podium, I feel a nudge on my arm. I turn my head to see a smiling Eamon Mallory, one of my competitors for the spot in the Games. He is also my best friend.

"Good luck," he says to me, right as Adie addresses the crowd with her usual, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever _in your favor!"

I snicker, for the odds are most likely _not _in mine.

The crowd falls silent as she calls out a respectful, "Ladies first, now!" just like she does ever year. But what she does this year is much different. After all, it is the Quarter quell. Usually, there are two giant glass balls with the tens of thousands of slips with our names on them. This year, though, all that sits on the stage is a roll of parchment sitting on a stand. A pink ribbon is wrapped around it. I look across to the other side of the stage and see another scroll with a blue ribbon around it representing the boy.

Tension is building in the square as Andie slowly unties the ribbon. She unrolls the scroll and calls out the name "Erin Holl". She will be representing District two in the Quarter quell.

This is a good choice, I think. Erin is strong, deadly. She will stand a good chance in the Games.

Andie is now on the other side of the stage, unfurling the boy's scroll. I realize I've broken out in a sweat and my heart rate has sky rocketed—the blood in my ears is pounding so loudly that I don't hear the name come out of her moving lips—

It's Aridan Wolff.

Suddenly I am hearing words of congratulations in my ears. I put on a smile and make my way to the stage to thunderous, mandatory applause. Once on the stage I shake hands with Erin, observing the reactions of the mentors. All five are nodding slowly, smiling and taking us in.

Andie is then between Erin and me, congratulating the two of us, the tributes of District two, and going on about how exciting these Games will be. And before I know it, we are off air and being whisked into the city hall so that we can say goodbye to our families and friends. Each set of people gets only five minutes with us, not nearly enough time to say everything that needs to be said.

The room I'm given is nice, big with windows and luxurious, comfy furniture. The lights are off, which allows the natural shine to light up the room. It gives a calm feeling to the place.

I've just sat down when my father and mother burst through the wooden double doors. My father looks proud, pleased, even, but my mother is just the opposite. She is close to tears, hiding her face behind a handkerchief. These next few minutes will be painful, and they are already ticking away.

I don't know what to say, so we just sit, interlocked for a few of the minutes we have. My mother is crying full force now; I can feel her tears on my shoulder. I'm even more surprised when I find that tears are coming from my father's eyes as well. Our time is almost up when he speaks.

"Ari, I think you can win this thing. That girl may be something that gets in the way, but the odds of you two being in the final two are second to none."

"It's happened before, dad," I say, remembering the games from a few years ago. The tributes from District five, of all places, were the final two tributes. The boy had ended up feeling pity for the girl, and killed himself so that he could send her home instead. Those games went over very well in the Capital.

"But I doubt it will happen to you," he says back. His voice is shaking and he's close to losing it completely. "Aridan, you can do it. I know you can."

My mother is just beginning to speak when two Peacekeepers slam open the door. Suddenly my parents are yelling how much they love me, and I'm yelling how much I love them back, and then they're gone.

In the silence, I come to the realization that I may never see them again, never hear their voices, none of that. But I must remain strong. My friends are all going to be in here soon, most likely together. I highly doubt anybody else will visit me other than them.

I'm surprised when Erin's father, a doctor, walks into the room next. He looks uncomfortable, as if he doesn't know if he should be in here. But he holds out his hand, and I shake it.

"Try not to kill my daughter, Aridan," he murmurs. He is still grasping my hand, squeezing hard and giving me a terrible look.

"I could never do that, sir," I mumble back. "You know that." I squeeze his hand back and pull it from his grasp.

He nods, wishes me good luck and walks out. It is surprising to me that he chose to pay me a visit at all, even if it was for him to get a final request from me.

My next visit is also a surprise; our mayor, Michael Gebhard, walks through the door, and makes his way quickly across the room. He raises his hand, and I jump back, bracing for the hit I'm thinking will come. But it does not. After a few seconds of sitting there, I open my eyes and see just an outstretched hand, holding a golden ring.

"This ring has been worn by each and every male tribute from District two," he states, thrusting his hand out again. "It is a tradition. Will you take it?" His eyes meet mine, and I see all of the years of the Games etched in his face. His worry is in the lines of his brow.

My hand automatically goes to my opposite wrist, where the gold wristband is wrapped around.

"Can I have both?" Immediately I know that this is a stupid, selfish question, and I know the answer.

"You know that they do not allow that, Aridan," says Mayor Gebhard, "You have seen enough of the games to know that.

Reluctantly, I remove the golden band and exchange it for the ring. He nods as Doctor Holl had just minutes before.

"I'll return this to your mother," he mutters, reading my mind. His mouth turns downward in a grimace. With a sigh, he stands to leave. He's nearly to the door when he turns and faces me.

"You're a good soul, Aridan." This startles me; what could that possibly have to do with anything?

His shoulders heave. "How are you planning to do it, child? The Quell is something that the Capital is taking very seriously. There will be many traps; you must understand this. Do you really think you can take home the crown?"

By the end of this, his voice has shifted to a near whisper, so soft that I am straining to hear his words. I realize that the ring in my hand is leaving and imprint because I am squeezing it so hard.

For the first time today, I feel truly frightened, because all of his words are true. The Gamemakers have promised Games that will be truly remarkable because of all of the "exciting twists" that will be thrown in. I feel my heart beat escalating, as it does whenever I am frightened. I take in a deep breath.

"I honestly don't know, sir." That's all I can muster up, all that can escape from my mouth without me breaking.

He just stands there for a moment, and slowly gives an almost imperceptible nod of his head.

"Good luck, Aridan. I think you will do well," he says. Then he is gone, and I am once again alone.

At least five minutes have passed before my next group of visitors comes in. Outside the door I hear yelling, that of people protesting. But once the door is open, everything is quiet, but you can feel the anger coming off of the five people who walk in: my friends.

The first to reach me is my longtime girlfriend, Elise Whitenburg. She is to me in barely four gigantic, gazelle-like steps, and her arms are around me, her face at my neck. I look up from her soft hair and see who the others are. Eamon, of course, is there, along with some of my better friends: Rayna, Joseph and Alek. All of them accept Elise had been hoping for a spot in the Games, but I can see now that all of them are glad it isn't them.

Elise is crying into my shoulder, her gentle sobs shaking her ever so slightly. Eamon has this dark look on his face, as if I had already been killed.

"They are only letting us see you off," he says. "They won't let any of the others say goodbye."

"Oh," I mumble, feeling a bit relieved that I won't have to say goodbye to any of the others. I really do care about my friends, but right now I have no need for tears, from them or myself. Those can be saved for later tonight, while I'm on the train on the way to the Capital. I try to calm Elise, knowing that I have only minutes to say all that I need to say to her; everything I need to say to all of them.

"You'll be fine without me," I whisper. "I promise." Now I'm shaking with grief. I meet Eamon's gaze, and I have to keep myself from breaking and pulling him down to hug me as well. A single tear leaks from my best friend's eye.

It's amazing, how just an hour before, he had been itching with excitement in hopes of being chosen to be in the Games. But now, seeing the reality of being chosen, all of that hope and excitement was gone. The familiar twinkle that was usually in his eyes had all but disappeared.

I looked away, hiding my face in Elise's brown hair. Through this touch, I try to relay everything I feel about her. How much I will miss her. How much I care about her. How much I hope I can make it back for her, if for anything else. He shaking has slowed to a minimum, and I no longer feel her tears on my neck.

"You'll be okay, Elise," I say, "I promise." I want to say so much more, but in front of my friends, all it would be is awkward. Instead of words, I lift her chin and give her a long, drawn out kiss; one that is long over due in this situation.

"I love you," I breathe, my eyes still closed.

"I love you, too," she whispers back. I open my eyes and see hers, large and bright blue, swimming with unreleased tears. She's trying to be strong. When I see this, my eyes water, and some tears run down my face. But I have to say goodbye to the others as well. I stand up with her and pull Eamon into a hug. His familiar smell hits my nose and another few tears leak out. I will miss him greatly, and I tell him so. He stays quiet, and it's obvious as to why. I move on to the others, earning a few "Good lucks" and "I'll miss you'd" from each of them. I hug Eamon once more and kiss Elise, and then the Peacekeepers escort them out.

"I'll try to come home," I whisper. "I swear it, I will."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

I look up to see a squadron of Peacekeepers is standing outside the door a minute after my friends are taken away from me. They will be escorting me to the train that transports Erin and me to the Capital. I have to remain strong for the camera crews that I know will be awaiting my arrival at the station, so I put on a fake smile and make small talk with the Peacekeepers. Most of them won't so much as look at me, but one of the women takes pity on me and tells me about the Capital. She talks of how grand the place is, with its large, glass and metal buildings, the bubbly people I might get to say a few words to, how delicious all of the food is. She makes the place that wants me dead sound very appealing.

For some strange, reason, I laugh at how ironic this is, and this playful banter continues for the rest of the walk to the Capital car with dark leather seats and what the lady Peacekeeper calls air conditioning. Once in the car, I shiver in the new cold, clean air. It's so different from the humid heat outside.

Five minutes later, we have arrived at the train station. My new friend, whose name is Alida, wishes me good luck as I step out of the car and am greeted by the flashing bulbs of what must be a hundred different cameras. Half blind, I grab onto the arm of another Peacekeeper, who helps me walk to the train, where I am greeted by none other than Andie Meyers. She pulls me into the car and shuts the door behind us.

"How do you do, Aridan?" she asks, holding out her hand. I can't help but suppress a laugh at her ridiculously large smile. Up close, Andie is a truly beautiful woman. I'm surprised that she chose to work as an escort for the Games, instead of as a model for Capital fashion.

I shake her hand. "I'm quite well, thank you," I say, attempting what I feel would be proper courtesy for this woman.

"Oh, that's splendid!" I notice how her pitch goes up on the end of her reply, part of that ridiculous accent. She pulls me around and starts walking at a brisk pace down the hallway, passing compartments that I assume hold beds and restrooms. She's babbling about how exciting the Games will be this year, and how astoundingly lucky I am to be able to participate in them.

"They'll be simply outstanding, I expect!" she exclaims. I roll my eyes; the Districts and the Capital have contrasting views of the Hunger Games. In the Districts, the Games are revered, and most people are wary of them whenever they roll around each year, unless they are Career tributes like me. But in the Capital, it is entirely different. The Games are cause for great celebration there. They are so popular, that many of the Capital citizens will go to great lengths to sponsor tributes in the Games, just so they can say that they may have picked a winner. These people get tattoos of victors' names on them, for goodness sakes. Even in our District, the Games aren't _that_ exciting.

By now, we've crossed into another car, into the dining compartment. Erin is sitting in here, along with the Victors Josline Walsh and Perry Claudel, who are apparently going to be our mentors. We go through some quick introductions and shake hands. Then we sit down and talk business over cups of tea.

Like so many had already done so today, Josline asked how we were planning on winning this.

I gave Erin a blank stare, and the rolled her eyes; taking the hint that she was to go first. She gives me a slight smile and turns to Perry and Josline.

"Well obviously, I think we'll join the careers from the beginning," she states, looking at me for confirmation. I nod, and she continues. "I've been working on tactics for how we'll pick off the others. It's likely that they will be the strongest kids the Districts have to offer, so I'll bet this year will be harder than most of the previous ones." She looks back and forth between the two mentors, blue eyes wide.

"Well, Erin," says Perry after a moment, "You are certainly right. We can assume quite safely that you two will be up against tough opponents, and not just from One and Four. The Capital has made it clear that that's how they want it to be; the twenty four strongest kids in the country, battling it out for the title. That sounds entertaining, right?" This is the first time I've ever heard him talk before, even though his Games were only about seven years back. His voice is smooth, clear. I'm surprised he didn't use it as a weapon in the Games; he could easily trick tributes into trusting him.

"So we have to be careful about who we make friends with," Erin says with an air of nonchalance about her. Her parents must have discussed this with her as well.

I decide to speak up. "We are going to have to observe all of the others' skills carefully," I declare. "If we find out as much as we can about how the others work, it'll be that much easier to get rid of them." I avoid the word "kill"; that's the one part I still can't grasp on to.

"Very good," murmurs Josline. Her voice doesn't show it, but her eyebrows are arched in surprise. It seems like she wasn't expecting Erin and me to be this put together only half an hour after the reaping.

I look out the window as the three of them continue talking, with Andie putting in her two cents worth every once in a while. We've only been on the train ten minutes or so, but already we are out of District two and rolling across fields of tall grass surrounded by hills. Looking at the far off mountains, we don't seem to be moving very fast at all, but when I look down at the grassy ground that surrounds us, all I can see is a green blur. The sky expands for what appears to be forever, with fluffy white clouds hanging precariously in the sea of blue.

I never knew the world could be so beautiful.

After sitting still for nearly a half hour, I decide that it is time to explore the train. The others have seemingly finished their chat and are now staring at the television, where we see the reaping for District three. Their escort, one of the few men, is reading the name of the girl tribute from the scroll. I only catch the first name, Alice, before the camera sweeps to a crowd of fourteen year olds, where a petite girl is walking forward as if in a trance. There is a scream of pain and sorrow, and the camera immediately finds a woman who must be the girl's mother. The crowd is silent, fully in shock. Could they really have chosen such an innocent looking child to partake in the Games?

Andie Meyers is shaking her head, eyes closed. Our mentors look grim, almost angry at the outcome of this reaping. The boy's name is now being called, a fifteen year old named Anthony. He walks strongly to the stage, chest out and chin high, where the little Alice is quivering with shock. They shake hands, and the broadcast cuts to the announcers, who are excited for the next rounds of the reaping. The tributes are chosen every half hour, starting with District one at eight in the morning. The Capital thinks that we actually want to watch all of the different selections, but most people just watch the mandatory recap at the end of the day.

I turn away from the television set, disgusted with District three and their citizens. How they could _vote _to send a small girl who looks as if she couldn't squish a bug is beyond me. I look to Erin, whose face shows the same shock that I'm attempting to cover up.

"You want to go look around?" I ask, and she catches the hidden meaning: _You want to get away from these people? _With a curt nod to the three adults, we begin walking towards the back of the train to talk.

"You excited?" I ask once we're out of earshot. I look to where she had been standing, and I'm shocked to see her sitting against the wall.

"How are we going to kill that girl, Aridan?" she whispers. She looks as if she's close to crying. I raise my eyebrows, but sit down next to her.

"With any luck, we won't be the ones that have to do it."

"But what if we are?" Her voice breaks as she raises her head to meet my eyes. "My first instinct would be to protect her, not kill her."

We sit in silence for a moment, both pondering the same thing, unable to come up with an answer.

"When the time comes," I murmur, "We'll just have to think like the Careers we are." She whispers something that I can't understand, but when I ask her what it was, she shakes her head. After a while, she has another thought.

"Do you think that they'll all be like her?"

This question shakes me. Could they all truly be shaky, scared young kids that just had a stroke of bad luck?

I decide not to answer this, the image of twelve year olds I've seen die in past Hunger games. It always is sickening to watch, and the killer always ends up feeling horrible about it in the end. I suddenly remember that when Perry was in the Games, he had to do just that.

"We'll have to ask him how to get past that," I say. She's confused as to what I mean. "Perry," I murmur. The realization is immediate.

"Let's go back in there," she says. "See if they want us to do anything else before we get there."

I doubt it, but I follow her anyways. Her display of emotion is something that we usually don't see in Career tributes. We are known for being deadly, heartless people who want nothing more than to win the Games. Almost always, we end up turning on each other in the end to help us to succeed. We all love, care, hate; we have emotions, but displaying them is something that is truly uncommon.

By now she's regained her complexion and we're in the dining compartment again. The smell of cooked meat is in the air, and I see that lunch has been laid out for us on rolling carts. There is a smorgasbord of sandwiches, meats, vegetables, cakes…

It looks absolutely delicious.

I immediately head to the deserts, thinking that I might as well add some weight before we go into the arena, as I'm sure I'll lose a lot of my body mass once I'm there. The cake is soft and absolutely delicious, chocolate with an icing that I can't even begin to describe; a mixture of vanilla, lemon, and something that Andie tells me is coconut. I eat three pieces before I move onto the soup, and then chicken, and then slices of beef drizzled in gravy. Once I'm done eating, I look to Erin, who is staring at me with wide eyes.

"What is it?" I ask, confused.

She laughs. "Where do you put all of it?"

"It's called being a guy," I say, patting my stomach. "You never stop being hungry!" I'm surprised by how easily we get along, when we're going to be put into the Games to kill each other. At least we can be guaranteed that it won't come down to the two of us in the end. That isn't the way of the Games. It never has been. When I was nine, the two tributes from District one were both expected to win. They were ruthless and killed without question, and made it to the top three. But on the last day of the Games, the Gamemakers caused a fire attack on the girl, and she was killed almost instantly. The boy from District one ended up getting the crown in the end.

Our mentors are laughing at me now and I turn to give them a nasty look, which sends them into a greater laughing fit. Soon enough, Erin joins in, and then Andie. I can't help but join in. We laugh for a full five minutes before Andie excuses herself to the restroom and Erin retires to her compartment further down the train, leaving me alone with Perry and Josline. I pick up a roll and nibble on the end of it, not meeting their eyes.

"You're an interesting young man," Josline says. I add that to the list of unexpected occurrences that have happened today.

"I've been told that quite a bit," I say, throwing her a quizzical look. Then I turn on my heel and follow Erin's example and head to my compartment, lie down on the large bed, and fall asleep.

—\/—

When I awake, it's clear that I've been sleeping for a long time. The sun is setting over the hills in the west. I know that the recap of the reaping will be soon and that they'll want me in there, watching it, "meeting" my competition for the first time. It's an important event in the eyes of the mentors, but it's like a punch in the gut for the tributes, seeing the faces of the people you have to kill in order to survive.

I wash my face at the little sink by the dresser, thinking that I should at least try to look decent in front of my mentor. I fun my hand through my hair, imagining what I'll look like in ten days time, if I'm alive that long. I'll be coated in a layer of grime, with wild eye and my hair in knots, so unlike my appearance right now. But that can't be helped. I put on my best smile and get back to the dining car, where the recap is just beginning.

"Well you're just in time," scoffs Erin. "You just wake up?"

I nod, and turn to the television, where District one is being shown on the screen. A strong, fierce looking girl is called forward to cheers, and then a short but muscular boy named Parker is called. There is a look in his eye that automatically urges me not to trust him. He's cocky, accepting the applause and cheers from the crowd. Then there's Erin, and then me. We both look pleased, yet stoic. After us, they show the small girl, Alice, and the boy from Three, and then the two from Four. The girl _looks_ smart, all knowing. She looks like she'd just as soon kill you as solve a math problem. The boy has the same arrogance about him as Parker, but not the deadliness. They are Jessica and Olivier.

And that's it, my alliance for the games; the pack that everyone will fear.

Not many of the others stand out in my mind after that. There's a tall boy from Five, the two from Ten who have this daunting air about them, and worst of all, a twelve year old from Six and a thirteen year old from Seven, both boys. Again, I have the sick feeling in my stomach that came about when I saw Alice this morning.

At least they're not all that young, that helpless. Looking at all of them, I'm sure I could beat most of them in hand to hand combat. The boy from ten, who is gangly, yet muscular, could prove to be a problem. He's strong, and looks fast. Just from the thirty seconds I see of him, I can tell he's reckless.

All in all, I now know that I can stand a good chance. It will be hard to kill some of these people, but when the time comes, I'm sure I'll stand up for myself and be able to do it.

When the recap is over, we all group around the table, where baskets of pastries and bread are placed with cups of tea. Josline and Perry look grim, while Andie looks simply ecstatic.

"Oh, these Games are going to be ever so exciting!" she trills. This is her element. The Games are just fun entertainment for her, as well as her job. So unlike how they are in the Districts.

Erin is serious, contemplating her chances after our first glimpses of our competition. She has a smug expression. She thinks she'll do well; after all of that worry, it was for almost nothing.

After glaring at Andie, I switch my gaze to Josline. "What are you thinking about this?" I ask, taking on the stable demeanor I had at our reaping.

She's quiet for some time, and then she speaks. "I'm quite surprised at the Districts," she murmurs, her voice barely audible. "All of the tributes are so young. There are only, what, six of you over seventeen years old, including you?" She points at Erin. "Just the fact that there's a twelve year old in there is…" she searches for a word, "Unnerving."

Perry agrees. "It's probable that the people of those Districts voted for people that they automatically assumed others wouldn't vote for," he says. "That's the only way that girl from Three got into this. But she'll be an easy one to pick off." It's almost like he's reassuring himself.

"I don't think the Capital will be pleased with this outcome," mutters Erin. I have to stifle a laugh; she's showing an entirely different side of herself than the one that I see nearly every day. It's fun getting to see it.

"What was that, dear?" asks Andie. Her words are slurred; her eyes have this distant look to them. She's had a bit too much wine today apparently. I look at the clock and laugh out loud. It's only 7:30.

Erin laughs with me. "Don't worry about it," she says, each word divided by a chortle of high, sweet laughter.

Josline and Perry are both grinning by now, but they're back to looking solemn. Perry is looking at Erin and me, confused.

"You two are so unlike any tributes I've mentored before," he says. "I mean, honestly. You're laughing, having fun, all while talking about what you have to do to win. It's very odd."

"Well we need to try to keep our spirits up, right?" I say, "This may be the last chance we get to act happy."

Josline is just about to speak when a female voice courses through the train.

"Ladies and gentlemen," it says, "We do hope that your trip has been pleasurable today. We will be arriving at the Capital in half an hour's time. Enjoy the rest of your trip aboard Capital Express Railways!"

There's a buzzing noise, and then silence.

"Well," says Perry after an awkward silence, "That's new." This earns another peal of laughter. Why it's so funny, I have no idea. But we are all in hysterics, even the mentors.

"It will be good for the Capital to see you like this," says Josline, "Happy, strong. You're the tributes that everybody wants to see, what tributes should be. You—"

"You'll be a smash at the opening ceremonies!" giggles Andie, cutting off Josline. "The crowd will simply love you!"

That's right, the opening ceremonies. With a sickening rush of realization, I realize that they will be happening in just twenty four hours. Tomorrow night, all twenty four tributes will be sent out into the streets of the Capital, decked out in costume, to meet the waves of people that want to see us. We will ride on chariots, pulled by horses, to the front of the tribute Training Center, where our new president, will give a speech telling of the origin of the Hunger Games and the rebellion that caused them. After saying a final goodnight to our audience, we will be herded into the Training center and sent up to our rooms.

"So what do we do tonight?" asks Erin. Since we are close to the Capital, the tributes from our district have a full evening before the other tributes arrive at the Capital. The Districts that are far away from the city get there the day after the reaping, and some get there at night. We're the only ones to get there the day of.

"Well tonight, the prep team will meet you, and we'll stay overnight at the beauty station," says Josline. Seeing our worried faces, she continues, "The prep team won't even touch you tonight. All of that happens tomorrow."

I shudder, thinking of what those people might do to me. Every year, we see tributes go in as they were at home, and they come out entirely different. Boys don't change all that much, but the girls are coated in layers of makeup and stripped of body hair, and then their hair is dyed and cut and they're shoved into ridiculous outfits. The sad part is that boys have to wear matching costumes, each representing what our district contributes to the Capital; for example, One makes luxury items while Twelve mines coal. Four sends in sea food, et cetera.

"You must listen to your prep team and designer," presses Perry. "They are bound to make you uncomfortable, but it shouldn't matter if you don't show it." He gives a quick look to me, causing me to turn red in the cheeks.

"All they want to do is make you pretty," says Josline, rolling her eyes, "Just remember that, and you'll be fine." She stands, and walks out, telling us she needs to wash up before we reach the Capital. Erin quickly follows suit, and after smelling my underarms, I decide that it would be a good idea as well.

Back in my compartment, I take a quick shower; the first I've ever had. The water feels like a hot, luxurious rain, and I'm slightly sad to step out of it, but I remind myself that there will be more over the course of the next few days. I find that in the drawers of the dresser there are clothes, and after sifting through them, I find a smooth brown shirt in my size. I put my black dress pants back on and find a pair of shoes in the closet, and head back out to the dining car.

Perry is still here, looking better groomed, and Andie is sitting in her chair sipping coffee. Because of the setting sun outside, when I look out the windows of the train, I think that the sun has just gone down. But after closer examination, I see that we are in fact inside a tunnel on the inside of the mountains. I remember part of the old history lessons we had, where we learned about the rebels' construction of these tunnels so that they wouldn't have to scale the mountains to reach the Capital.

I go away from the window and sit down in an armchair toward the back of the car, away from the others. Five minutes later, Erin has returned, and soon after her comes Josline. We all sit down separately, not speaking until we see a hint of light out the window.

Immediately, Erin and I are at the window, pushing our faces up against the glass to see as best as we can. The light continues growing brighter and bigger with each second, and then the train pushes out of the mountain and into the Capital.

It's breathtaking, no, it's outstanding. I can't find a word to describe just how truly beautiful this place is. Millions upon millions of lights are twinkling against the night sky, and we can see the outlines of sky rises in the distance.

"It's… it's," Erin is stammering, unable to find an adjective.

"It's beautiful," I breathe. She nods as Perry comes up behind us, clasping our shoulders in his hands.

"Welcome to the Capital, kids."

That's all he has to say. All I will hear, because for now, I am amazed.


End file.
